Throughout the conversation, he was constantly complaining about her curly hair, and wanted her to get to do artificial hair straightening. So did he mean to say she looked ugly in curly hair? If so, I would never agree to this stupidest thought of one of my ex-colleagues who visited me the other day, along with his medium sized family which included his wife and three kids. I was really happy to meet them, but was a bit taken aback by the kind way he commented about his wife’s long and healthy hair. Although we talk over the phone often, I was meeting his wife for the first time, technically the second I would say, as I’ve seen her once, from a distance, when she came to the school (where I was teaching) once, to meet her husband. An averagely tall, naturally pretty, and curly haired woman, she neither looked chic nor like a village belle who badly needs a transformation to match with her husband’s newfound NRI status, after having received a job in Dubai. I don’t know what made him create the very false notion that having very straight hair would make a woman more beautiful, and was really feeling bad for his wife whom he was continuously making fun of, wanting her to have artificially straightened hair.
Seeing her getting flustered with the constant comments about her ‘unruly’ hair, I tried changing the topic, but he swirled and came back to the very same subject again and again, which I think was a bit irritating and nasty. Although he was meeting me after a couple of years, he’s seen many of my photographs on Facebook, and has showered as much praises as possible for my straightened hair. Did I tell you that I had very curly hair before, just like his wife? It was so curly but cute, literally like telephone cord, however, I had to opted for artificial straightening for the sake of convenience, and not because I felt I would look bad in curly hair. So when he started comparing my hair with hers, it sounded a bit too odd and mean. Embarrassing me more, he wanted to me to ‘motivate’ her to straighten her hair! I couldn’t help but wonder why men can’t stop speaking and acting silly and puerile like him.
I really pity such people who give undue importance to looks, and have always felt the urge to shout-out to them about their stupidity. Some men addictively idolize women who don’t mind wasting countless hours in front of the mirror every day, making sure their hair is flawlessly styled and their makeup is immaculately perfect. I think they should try and stop confusing what one looks like with their actual persona. Be it artificial hair straightening, makeup, or chic haircuts, they all depend on the likes, tastes, and conveniences of individuals, and once can never force a person to do this , only because it looks good on someone else.
I don’t want to say looks hardly matter, and won’t say not to forgo one’s beauty rituals, but will definitely say not to fret and overdo. It matters and one has to look presentable, but not amounting to creating an outer layer of artificial persona for oneself, just to match with the fashion trendsetters. My friend’s wife is naturally beautiful, as far as I know, is a very humble woman, who is family bound and takes care of everyone much more than him. So what if she has a coiled or curled hair, she looks good and undoubtedly is the most lovable girl that he can have on earth.
My U.S. dreams
Last week I was flipping through the pages of my college diaries and saw one of the applications that I had send to a US company, hoping kick off a prospective career and built a stable future in the States, which was always my dream right from the beginning of my college days. If you ask me reason for being crazily in love with The States, I have a lot of things to say about the country which has always fascinated me with for one reason or the other, especially for the freedom to fairly and freely pursue happiness and success. With violence against women, gender bias, lewd comments and horrible eve teasing turning my place messy and less likable, I felt US would be the best place to get the right amount of liberty and happiness that one would always wish for. Seeing the abundance of prospective educational options, well paid jobs, good and neat places to live in, no dowry, no forceful marriages, rigid laws, less domestic violence and rapes, no ‘age-old’ hard and fast rules of society and community, and many other things that I’ve always loved to have in my country, my love for The States increased manifolds every day. Putting together all these ‘pluses’ and many more enticing factors, The States turned out to be the synonym of the dream land where I could fulfil everything on my bucket list of professional and personal goals. Although the September 11th attack too away a good share of my dreams and replaced it with chilling thoughts about safety and security, my US ambitions where never completely out of my mind. So, my first and foremost aim after college days was looking for job in the US, and tried as many options as possible to get myself a prospective profession. But sadly I failed everywhere. I was getting rejection mails one after the other from all the employers. Even after being well qualified, no one turned out kind enough to let me enter my dream land, and this made me shatter to tears.
My big dream about US slowly started fading out with the increase in amount of rejection mails. Things were not working out as planned and with no other option left, I made up my mind to take-up the job of a teacher in a nearby school, where I was getting just peanuts as salary.
Looking for a pretty decent salary, I changed a couple of jobs, and took up the job of a content writer in this city, but had my US hopes somewhere in the back of my mind. A few years went-by and soon the global recession started hitting the world, destroying the economy of the most as well as the least powerful countries with equal impact. Many of my friends in US slowly started losing their jobs, and were forced to come back. Being employed in a medium sized company here, I was thankfully saved from the hard blow of recession but thoughts about my long lost dream was back with a bang, but made me feel lucky this time for sticking on what I had in hand. I used to wonder why I was never lucky enough to get for myself a good job in US, but after seeing my friends return broken-hearted, I felt god has the right plan for me by making me stay-on here. Losing a well paid job is nothing short of a sudden huge blow on the face, leaving oneself shaken and terribly hurt, and this was what I was seeing on the faces of my friends. Although most of them managed to find jobs here, there are yet to compromise with their losses.
Then followed a string of tragedies, hurricanes and bomb blasts to name a few, and my dream slowly lost its lustre and shine. It soon became 'lifeless' and I moved on in life sans my US 'fantasies'.
At present I am happy with whatever I am today, and have almost forgotten all my dreams about move out to U.S. I think there is nothing happier than living a contented life, with family and friends around to augment the happiness. If at all someone is kind enough to take me to U.S. someday, I may perhaps visit some beautiful places and comeback to my homeland in no time. I know I would have a lot of problems and restrictions here, but considering the contentment that I am enjoying both on personal and professional front, all the other reasons take the backseat.
My big dream about US slowly started fading out with the increase in amount of rejection mails. Things were not working out as planned and with no other option left, I made up my mind to take-up the job of a teacher in a nearby school, where I was getting just peanuts as salary.
Looking for a pretty decent salary, I changed a couple of jobs, and took up the job of a content writer in this city, but had my US hopes somewhere in the back of my mind. A few years went-by and soon the global recession started hitting the world, destroying the economy of the most as well as the least powerful countries with equal impact. Many of my friends in US slowly started losing their jobs, and were forced to come back. Being employed in a medium sized company here, I was thankfully saved from the hard blow of recession but thoughts about my long lost dream was back with a bang, but made me feel lucky this time for sticking on what I had in hand. I used to wonder why I was never lucky enough to get for myself a good job in US, but after seeing my friends return broken-hearted, I felt god has the right plan for me by making me stay-on here. Losing a well paid job is nothing short of a sudden huge blow on the face, leaving oneself shaken and terribly hurt, and this was what I was seeing on the faces of my friends. Although most of them managed to find jobs here, there are yet to compromise with their losses.
Then followed a string of tragedies, hurricanes and bomb blasts to name a few, and my dream slowly lost its lustre and shine. It soon became 'lifeless' and I moved on in life sans my US 'fantasies'.
At present I am happy with whatever I am today, and have almost forgotten all my dreams about move out to U.S. I think there is nothing happier than living a contented life, with family and friends around to augment the happiness. If at all someone is kind enough to take me to U.S. someday, I may perhaps visit some beautiful places and comeback to my homeland in no time. I know I would have a lot of problems and restrictions here, but considering the contentment that I am enjoying both on personal and professional front, all the other reasons take the backseat.
Olfactory dilemma
Being with a smelly person and finding no good way to let her know how bad she smells is nothing but a curse, and sadly I have been facing this invariably on every day in my hostel room. This not so good friend of mine, with who I share my room, often sweats so badly but unfortunately takes least care to avoid being smelly.The odour is actually so bad that even I am blindfolded in a pitch-dark room; I will be able to track her down due to her her malodorous aroma. She takes bath everyday and still stinks like putrid egg. But in my effort not make her feel embarrassed, I badly struggle to hide my puking sensation whenever she’s around, thus not revealing how awful she smells. Smells can be subjective, but hers is way too out of the norm and extremely unbearable. However I am tongue-tied due to the heavy dose of sensitivity involved in the matter, and live on the mercy of agarbathis and room fresheners, to avoid the foul stench.
She’s averagely neat yet smells pretty bad all day long, even after applying her perfume, which unfortunately is all the more irritating than her smelly clothes. Being with a person who sweats profusely and smells nauseatingly is extremely disgusting, especially when I am back from work, as I will have to try and hold my breath until I open the windows, even after knowing about the flock of mosquitoes that would get in to the room through the windows. I've have hardly seen her taking any deliberate effort to walking around stinky, even after my pretty long lecture about the need for having a good smelling perfume.
Being smelly is not often due to the lack of personal hygiene, as I’ve heard that even some health problems can make people sweat badly and smell like old shoes. But I think such people should extra sensitive about the way the smell, and should take utmost care about their hygiene, thus avoiding being stinky, much to others’ discomfort. But so far, there’s not even been a single effort from her end, and this is freaking me out. The other day, I tried telling her not to pile her dirty clothes on the corner of the room, instead wash it regularly, and her answer was shocking. She said she was scared the colour of her newly bought clothes would fade, and for this reason washed her clothes only after wearing it a couple of times. Now that I have found the reason behind the putrid egg odour of her body and clothes, I was thinking about telling her openly about this, as I really don’t want to have any more stink in my room. But my friendship and civility overpowers this urgent need, thus making it unable to reveal this truth boldly.
She’s averagely neat yet smells pretty bad all day long, even after applying her perfume, which unfortunately is all the more irritating than her smelly clothes. Being with a person who sweats profusely and smells nauseatingly is extremely disgusting, especially when I am back from work, as I will have to try and hold my breath until I open the windows, even after knowing about the flock of mosquitoes that would get in to the room through the windows. I've have hardly seen her taking any deliberate effort to walking around stinky, even after my pretty long lecture about the need for having a good smelling perfume.
Being smelly is not often due to the lack of personal hygiene, as I’ve heard that even some health problems can make people sweat badly and smell like old shoes. But I think such people should extra sensitive about the way the smell, and should take utmost care about their hygiene, thus avoiding being stinky, much to others’ discomfort. But so far, there’s not even been a single effort from her end, and this is freaking me out. The other day, I tried telling her not to pile her dirty clothes on the corner of the room, instead wash it regularly, and her answer was shocking. She said she was scared the colour of her newly bought clothes would fade, and for this reason washed her clothes only after wearing it a couple of times. Now that I have found the reason behind the putrid egg odour of her body and clothes, I was thinking about telling her openly about this, as I really don’t want to have any more stink in my room. But my friendship and civility overpowers this urgent need, thus making it unable to reveal this truth boldly.
Summer musings
Scorching summer is testing my sanity and making me crankier than ever, driving me crazy for all the known and unknown reasons for being a victim to the hottest climate. This is by far the worst summer season I’ve ever faced. Making matters worse in this extreme hot and humid climate is the constant scheduled and unscheduled power-cuts. Blazing sun and temperature soaring high, I’ve been on a constant battle with summer since last month, and have been trying all the possible options to cool-off and beat the summer heat. But summer has taken its worst face this year giving me tough time than ever, particularly whenever I am out of the office. Thanks to the centralized air conditioner in the office that I can feel at ease the moment I am in, and for this reason I always make sure to reach the office a bit earlier to relax a little before jumping in to my writing schedules. Still, evenings are the worst and them moment I am out of the cosy office ambiance, I feel as if I’ve entered in to a furnace, and often start having severe sinusitis problems, on being exposed to the hotness right from the cold and comfy office space.
Like every year, I’ve been ranting about my summer woes to everyone, irrespective of whether they are paying attention or not, but my dad is the only one who keep listen to all the madness that I keep blabbering on and on, while the others tactically escape from my jibber-jabber. The other day I was cribbing to my dad about the noise and fumes of fire crackers outside my house. Thanks to my neighbors who were enjoying the Vishu, and the ear-blasting noise and chocking fumes did nothing good but increased the temperature around. I know my rant is much worse than the summer heat, and at times feel so bad for him, for being left with no other option but to keep listening to my craziness. In fact, dad’s the best listener at home, be it summer or winter. Mom’s never patient enough like dad, and being busy in kitchen for major share of her day time, she’ll just drive me away the very moment I start pestering her with my summer worries and keep getting on her nerves.
Summer gets scorcher than ever at night, making me sleep deprived most of the day, even if I take a good shower right before going to bed. It’s during this time of the year that I often feel like filling water inside a huge bucket and sitting inside it the whole day. Last day, I met one of my friends who shaved off her hair to escape from the blazing summer. The very happy smile on her face made me wonder how could she manage to walk around happily with her fully shaven head and not get questioned by the whole group of preachers of ‘age-old’ femininity concepts. She felt so relaxed and calm that even I was tempted to shave off my hair save myself from summer, but to be frank, didn’t have enough courage like hers to face the world headstrong.
I’ve heard that summer season would last for another 30 days and I am really not sure how I am going to live-on.
Like every year, I’ve been ranting about my summer woes to everyone, irrespective of whether they are paying attention or not, but my dad is the only one who keep listen to all the madness that I keep blabbering on and on, while the others tactically escape from my jibber-jabber. The other day I was cribbing to my dad about the noise and fumes of fire crackers outside my house. Thanks to my neighbors who were enjoying the Vishu, and the ear-blasting noise and chocking fumes did nothing good but increased the temperature around. I know my rant is much worse than the summer heat, and at times feel so bad for him, for being left with no other option but to keep listening to my craziness. In fact, dad’s the best listener at home, be it summer or winter. Mom’s never patient enough like dad, and being busy in kitchen for major share of her day time, she’ll just drive me away the very moment I start pestering her with my summer worries and keep getting on her nerves.
Summer gets scorcher than ever at night, making me sleep deprived most of the day, even if I take a good shower right before going to bed. It’s during this time of the year that I often feel like filling water inside a huge bucket and sitting inside it the whole day. Last day, I met one of my friends who shaved off her hair to escape from the blazing summer. The very happy smile on her face made me wonder how could she manage to walk around happily with her fully shaven head and not get questioned by the whole group of preachers of ‘age-old’ femininity concepts. She felt so relaxed and calm that even I was tempted to shave off my hair save myself from summer, but to be frank, didn’t have enough courage like hers to face the world headstrong.
I’ve heard that summer season would last for another 30 days and I am really not sure how I am going to live-on.
“It’s a girl!” - Some thoughts on female foeticide
Believing the baseless prophecy of a godman, who told them that she will give birth to a baby girl, they deprived her of motherhood and mercilessly ripped-off the foetus from her womb. It was so sad reading the heartbreaking news today, about a 22 year old woman who was kicked and beaten by her in-laws who were desperate for a male heir. It was even harder to imagine what the woman would have gone through, after having lost her baby. It’s been more than six decades since we gained independence, but sadly we’re not yet independent from the age-old woman hatred in the country. What I can’t stop wondering is the logic behind the immense passion for tigers and stray dogs in the country where people ruthlessly kill girl children.
The country has had remarkable progresses in all sectors, but not in the mindset of the people who still consider girl child as a curse and boys as a blessing. This is a really massive problem that no one is actually interested in sorting out, resulting in the tremendously increasing ratio of female foeticide. Daughters are still considered a liability, mainly due to the legally banned but widely prevailing practice of dowry. No matter the number of amazing progresses made here, the country is still carrying the rotten stinks of monsters-in-law, mammas boys who are just ruthless gold diggers and have absolutely no mercy on anyone other than themselves, stealthily hiding behind the candid photographs of engagements and weddings that are happening around. I just don’t understand the reason why some women are so keen on clinging on to troubled marriages even after knowing that her husband and in-laws do not want her to have daughters, and forcefully insist her take inhuman steps. I think such marriages really don’t have anything worth taking a chance, especially when one is pressurized and forced to kill her child. Sometimes I really wonder how people can be so biased, especially some of those women out there, who join the men in the house to humiliate and hurt their daughters-in-law for not giving a male heir.
Now let me tell you a bit of my experience. We’re two daughters and I am the eldest. I’ve always heard my relatives lamenting and sympathising at my mom for having two daughters, which according to them is a backbreaking responsibility. They were always seen making sad faces at my mom for not having a son to ‘responsibly’ take care of them. As a child, such comments used to hurt me, but now I care a damn. Both me and my sister are now blessed enough to take good care of my parents and the male clan about whom my relatives were always seen going gaga are still on their road to success.
Millions of female foetuses get aborted every year, and there’s no one to question this savagery. Getting killed just because of being a girl is an unexplainable tragedy, and keeps affirming the sad fact that a girl child is still unwanted in India.
I still remember seeing an episode of non-fiction programme, aired a few months back, which showed the case of a doctor who used to do illegal abortion of female foetuses, that were later found floating in a river, wrapped up in polythene bags. So are we heading to world where there will be no women but only men all around? I really feel this would happen sometime soon, when all the female foetuses get killed one by one, and only boys are born everywhere.
No one is born bad
On contrary to the popular belief that teachers are kindness personified, she was tough and rude, right from day one till the end of our postgraduate studies, and for this reason I never felt the need to create a lasting rapport with her, unlike the relationship with other teachers who were very friendly and loving. Being in-charge of our department, she was always seen busy with teaching and other departmental activities, the reason that gave me an initial false notion that her work distanced her from us. But I was wrong, and she proved this many times beyond doubts with her ungracious behaviour, often insulting and hurting us for no specific reason to mention.
She hardly came to our classroom or took pains to complete the lessons, but reached, she proved herself with her fantastic and attention grabbing lectures, the only reason why I’ve never hated her completely. But the teacher in her was mostly overshadowed by the hard-hearted human who never left any chances to mock and insult us for all the silly reasons that she could find, whether it’s a spelling mistake in our lecture notes or a wrong pronunciation while reading-out a seminar. Instead of taking pains to explain where we were wrong, she often made a mockery of us before the whole class, and enjoyed it herself. Even while submitting assignments and seminars, we took extra caution to put things ‘her way’, as we knew that she would tear the sheets mercilessly and throw it on our face for even for the slightest and unintentional mistake of ours.
Much to my surprise, she always loved indulging in self praise, which often sounded funny, as though she was unknowingly trying to make a fool of herself before others. But no one had the courage to go against her, and hence agreed to whatever she said, and showered her with undeserved praises, just to make her happy, or else it would have clearly made its effect in our internal assessment marks.
Initially I couldn’t take-in the rude attitude of hers but had to forcefully make-up my mind, as I had no other option. Thankfully the other teachers were good and compassionate to us, and for this reason we never felt disheartened at any point of our college days. It was almost during the mid of the third semester that I happened to hear the life story of our 'ruthless' teacher, which changed my attitude towards her overnight. Married to a government servant, from a reputed family, she expected a happy and peaceful life but soon received the first pitiless blow of fate when her husband was caught for misappropriation of office funds. After losing his job as a part of the official enquiry, she was only breadwinner of the family, and had three little children to take care of. But she moved on, and even managed to complete her doctoral studies while working, amid umpteen difficulties.
Years passed-by and her daughters reached the marriageable age, but sadly she couldn’t get a suitable groom for her eldest daughter, for some reason or the other. This frustrating delay shattered her more than words could describe, and to make matters worse, her younger daughter eloped with someone. It was another huge blow for her. The only son, the hope of the entire family, was a good for nothing spoiled brat. Added to all these were the spicy gossips about her family.
I couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to live sanely in her problem filled world. Although her personal grievances could never be considered as an excuse for her ill-treating us, I was ready to forget whatever she did, as I was sure that circumstances and surroundings might have made her the way she was, for which she could never be blamed, no matter however bad she behaved. I knew that she would never change herself at any point of our academic life, but after hearing her story, I could no more carry any hard feelings for her.
I completed my post graduation in 2003, and till then she was more or less the same, but as I knew the ‘reason’, I faced her arrogance calmly the whole time, without any qualms.
She hardly came to our classroom or took pains to complete the lessons, but reached, she proved herself with her fantastic and attention grabbing lectures, the only reason why I’ve never hated her completely. But the teacher in her was mostly overshadowed by the hard-hearted human who never left any chances to mock and insult us for all the silly reasons that she could find, whether it’s a spelling mistake in our lecture notes or a wrong pronunciation while reading-out a seminar. Instead of taking pains to explain where we were wrong, she often made a mockery of us before the whole class, and enjoyed it herself. Even while submitting assignments and seminars, we took extra caution to put things ‘her way’, as we knew that she would tear the sheets mercilessly and throw it on our face for even for the slightest and unintentional mistake of ours.
Much to my surprise, she always loved indulging in self praise, which often sounded funny, as though she was unknowingly trying to make a fool of herself before others. But no one had the courage to go against her, and hence agreed to whatever she said, and showered her with undeserved praises, just to make her happy, or else it would have clearly made its effect in our internal assessment marks.
Initially I couldn’t take-in the rude attitude of hers but had to forcefully make-up my mind, as I had no other option. Thankfully the other teachers were good and compassionate to us, and for this reason we never felt disheartened at any point of our college days. It was almost during the mid of the third semester that I happened to hear the life story of our 'ruthless' teacher, which changed my attitude towards her overnight. Married to a government servant, from a reputed family, she expected a happy and peaceful life but soon received the first pitiless blow of fate when her husband was caught for misappropriation of office funds. After losing his job as a part of the official enquiry, she was only breadwinner of the family, and had three little children to take care of. But she moved on, and even managed to complete her doctoral studies while working, amid umpteen difficulties.
Years passed-by and her daughters reached the marriageable age, but sadly she couldn’t get a suitable groom for her eldest daughter, for some reason or the other. This frustrating delay shattered her more than words could describe, and to make matters worse, her younger daughter eloped with someone. It was another huge blow for her. The only son, the hope of the entire family, was a good for nothing spoiled brat. Added to all these were the spicy gossips about her family.
I couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to live sanely in her problem filled world. Although her personal grievances could never be considered as an excuse for her ill-treating us, I was ready to forget whatever she did, as I was sure that circumstances and surroundings might have made her the way she was, for which she could never be blamed, no matter however bad she behaved. I knew that she would never change herself at any point of our academic life, but after hearing her story, I could no more carry any hard feelings for her.
I completed my post graduation in 2003, and till then she was more or less the same, but as I knew the ‘reason’, I faced her arrogance calmly the whole time, without any qualms.
Love is not a formality or an obligation
I have two friends in the city. One is married to her childhood sweetheart and the another one had a totally arranged marriage as per the rigid guidelines of her more than strict community. Both live in the city a stone throw away from my hostel, and I often meet them during weekends. Although nearing to their first anniversary, I’ve always noticed that they are poles apart in the way they handle their marital life, and this has always been through provoking for the sheer difference in thoughts of two young couples of almost the same age.
Having taken their relationship to the next level, the couple who ended up in to a successful love marriage, are always seen happier than ever, thus proving that they made the right choice even after coming from two entirely different backgrounds and religions. I don’t want to say that they are the power couple that anyone would idolize, as I have seen many instances where they start calling names and fight like street dogs. But those instantaneous fights are arguments never last even for an hour, and they get back to each other’s arms with more love and affection. The fights and arguments are often for reasons sillier than the usually silly ones, and to my surprise I have never seen them fighting for any kind of serious matters. I have never seen then indulging in PDAs or showering showy compliments at each other in public, but one can definitely understand their love for each other right from the way they are. Some of you may perhaps say that since they have known each other, they would obviously know how to be with. I do agree that knowing someone for quite a long time is a pretty good reason to get bonded well, but it will happen only through one’s intentional effort, for which one has to have an ego-less, open-minded, and loving attitude. So, the fact that they know each other is not just enough to live a pleasant life that everyone would dream about.
On the other hand, even the couple who had the completely arranged marriage are very much happy, but unlike the previous couple, I have never seen any kind of intense love equation among these folks. They are just so plain all the time, and look as if they are living a very timetabled and mechanical kind of life that someone else has charted for them. They hardly have time for each other, and are often in their own worlds, be it in the office or at home. Of course, they do love each other, but there’s a kind of numbness in their relationship which is very evident.
At first I just felt I am wrong in concluding things only based on what get to see, but there came many situations where they proved me right with their pretentiousness and lack of passion for each other. The mental and emotional make-up and bondage that a loving couple would have was hardly found between them, instead what remained was the very mechanically lived moments, just for the sake of it. I have never seen them living a day to the fullest, instead hardly see them together, unlike the previous couple who have frequent lunch outings, dinner dates, surprise parties, vacations plans, and many more things in their list, and yet live a responsible life.
Some people are blessed with everything, and yet a true bondage does not blossom and grow among them, whereas some others have umpteen differences and still are blissfully connected to each other with the strong vibes of love and passion. Don’t mistake me, as I am really not against arranged marriages. But having the seen the life of these two friends of mine, I keep wondering which one will help find unending and immensely passionate love that lasts a lifetime.
Having taken their relationship to the next level, the couple who ended up in to a successful love marriage, are always seen happier than ever, thus proving that they made the right choice even after coming from two entirely different backgrounds and religions. I don’t want to say that they are the power couple that anyone would idolize, as I have seen many instances where they start calling names and fight like street dogs. But those instantaneous fights are arguments never last even for an hour, and they get back to each other’s arms with more love and affection. The fights and arguments are often for reasons sillier than the usually silly ones, and to my surprise I have never seen them fighting for any kind of serious matters. I have never seen then indulging in PDAs or showering showy compliments at each other in public, but one can definitely understand their love for each other right from the way they are. Some of you may perhaps say that since they have known each other, they would obviously know how to be with. I do agree that knowing someone for quite a long time is a pretty good reason to get bonded well, but it will happen only through one’s intentional effort, for which one has to have an ego-less, open-minded, and loving attitude. So, the fact that they know each other is not just enough to live a pleasant life that everyone would dream about.
On the other hand, even the couple who had the completely arranged marriage are very much happy, but unlike the previous couple, I have never seen any kind of intense love equation among these folks. They are just so plain all the time, and look as if they are living a very timetabled and mechanical kind of life that someone else has charted for them. They hardly have time for each other, and are often in their own worlds, be it in the office or at home. Of course, they do love each other, but there’s a kind of numbness in their relationship which is very evident.
At first I just felt I am wrong in concluding things only based on what get to see, but there came many situations where they proved me right with their pretentiousness and lack of passion for each other. The mental and emotional make-up and bondage that a loving couple would have was hardly found between them, instead what remained was the very mechanically lived moments, just for the sake of it. I have never seen them living a day to the fullest, instead hardly see them together, unlike the previous couple who have frequent lunch outings, dinner dates, surprise parties, vacations plans, and many more things in their list, and yet live a responsible life.
Some people are blessed with everything, and yet a true bondage does not blossom and grow among them, whereas some others have umpteen differences and still are blissfully connected to each other with the strong vibes of love and passion. Don’t mistake me, as I am really not against arranged marriages. But having the seen the life of these two friends of mine, I keep wondering which one will help find unending and immensely passionate love that lasts a lifetime.
Some thoughts on life and death
A pretty lazy evening got soon shadowed by the saddening news of an accident that took place in one of the nearby churches where reconstruction works where going on in full swing. It was almost 6.30 in the evening, when a part of the church, located a few kilometers away from the city, fell down suddenly killing two and injuring almost 15 to 20 of the labourers. They were so badly trapped inside the debris for a couple of hours, until the rescue team managed to help them find their way out. The news was shocking and upsetting to the core that I didn’t even have the courage to watch the footages that were shown along with the news reports. It was just an accident and I am not sure if there’s anyone to blame, but what shocked me more was the place where it occurred. The mishap happened right before god almighty, right before the divine and sacred presence, and he couldn’t stop it from happening!
I keep thinking the same whenever I hear about mishaps that kill innocent people, for no reason of their own. Right from childhood, I’ve always been told that god repays everyone according to their deeds, the reason why some people suffer so badly, whereas some others live happily throughout their lives. If this is what’s called the universal law, I would really want to know the reason why the so called sinners live longer than some really good souls who leave us suddenly. I do understand that birth and death are not in our hands, but it just becomes too unjustifiable when innocent people get clutched by death for reasons that are no way related to them. It makes me feel so angry at god for being cruel to people those sincerely pray, worship. and love him with heart and soul. When a distant cousin succumbed to the mortal wounds from a train accident last month, I heard the elders from the family cursing his ‘fate’ for what has happened. Had it been due to a mistake from his end, I could have understood the reason behind god's decision , but it was just not his fault, and again I couldn’t stop but wonder why god almighty turned out so cruel to his family, and took away their dear son unexpectedly.
There was an accident last week which killed an entire family, including two kids, only due to the terrible haste of the truck driver who hastily rammed his vehicle in to the car in which the victims travelled. They died on the spot. I still wonder the reason why the entire family had to leave this world for no fault of their own, only because a stranger’s carelessness and haste. Is god a bit cruel at times?
It’s been a couple of years since I lost my grandmother, just 10 days ahead of her 50th wedding anniversary. We had big plans in mind and wanted to give her and grandpa a memorable day with everyone in the family. But things took a different turn when she feel ill abruptly one day, and had to be taken to hospital. She was almost fine while on her way to hospital, but within an hour dad called me and conveyed the sad news. It was so heartbreaking, and the pain turned out more excruciating when I saw my uncle telling the news to my grandfather. Throughout her entire life, she was so kind and compassionate to everyone, and never missed her prayers or visits to temple. Yet she lost her elder son, my uncle, due to a sudden cardiac failure, and the very next year she left us suddenly one fine day. Who is to blame here?
I keep thinking the same whenever I hear about mishaps that kill innocent people, for no reason of their own. Right from childhood, I’ve always been told that god repays everyone according to their deeds, the reason why some people suffer so badly, whereas some others live happily throughout their lives. If this is what’s called the universal law, I would really want to know the reason why the so called sinners live longer than some really good souls who leave us suddenly. I do understand that birth and death are not in our hands, but it just becomes too unjustifiable when innocent people get clutched by death for reasons that are no way related to them. It makes me feel so angry at god for being cruel to people those sincerely pray, worship. and love him with heart and soul. When a distant cousin succumbed to the mortal wounds from a train accident last month, I heard the elders from the family cursing his ‘fate’ for what has happened. Had it been due to a mistake from his end, I could have understood the reason behind god's decision , but it was just not his fault, and again I couldn’t stop but wonder why god almighty turned out so cruel to his family, and took away their dear son unexpectedly.
There was an accident last week which killed an entire family, including two kids, only due to the terrible haste of the truck driver who hastily rammed his vehicle in to the car in which the victims travelled. They died on the spot. I still wonder the reason why the entire family had to leave this world for no fault of their own, only because a stranger’s carelessness and haste. Is god a bit cruel at times?
It’s been a couple of years since I lost my grandmother, just 10 days ahead of her 50th wedding anniversary. We had big plans in mind and wanted to give her and grandpa a memorable day with everyone in the family. But things took a different turn when she feel ill abruptly one day, and had to be taken to hospital. She was almost fine while on her way to hospital, but within an hour dad called me and conveyed the sad news. It was so heartbreaking, and the pain turned out more excruciating when I saw my uncle telling the news to my grandfather. Throughout her entire life, she was so kind and compassionate to everyone, and never missed her prayers or visits to temple. Yet she lost her elder son, my uncle, due to a sudden cardiac failure, and the very next year she left us suddenly one fine day. Who is to blame here?
I hate remixes
What makes original different from a very similar looking duplicate? Although looks can be deceptive, duplicate would definitely get exposed in no time for lack of quality. Classiness and originality can never be copied however hard we try, and this is very evident in music compositions. The originals always stand ahead of the crowd, whereas the cheaply composed or copied duplicates vanish in no time. However many of our supercilious post modern composers are yet to learn this truth and keep continuing the atrocious massacre of many good old songs that have lured us with their matchless compositions and soothing lyrics.
Yesterday I was listening to some songs in random, and found that one among sounded too quirky and odd, but had very familiar lyrics. I was totally clueless at first, and took a few minutes to understand that what I heard was a disgracefully remixed version of one of my favourite songs, the awful attempt of one among the fame-hungry, self proclaimed musicians out there.
There’s nothing more frustrating than listening to the vexatious and echo laden remixed versions of soothing and melodious songs that I’ve always cherished. Remixing is a sickening crime as it gives horrendous makeover to the magnificence of many of those beautifully composed songs, by adding sleazy lyrics and thunderous tunes that are created with the deliberate intention to spoil the entire charm of original compositions.
There’s been an unstoppable flood of remixed songs, right from the day of invention of this nonsensical music composition method, which I would call the cruellest leeching of other people’s capabilities, by disfiguring eminently likable songs with cheesy lyrics and ear-splitting music. But duplicates, however perfectly created, will never turnout irreplaceably beautiful as the original ones, and at times may badly insult the original creations, like some of the attention-whoring song remixes that we hear these days.
Of all the remixes that have been released so far, nothing was successful enough to surpass the original, which makes me wonder why remixes are being made, when we all know that they are nothing but an expensive second- hand trashy pieces, when the originals in their entire perfection are cheaper and easily available. Remixing or the awful butchery of classic songs is nothing but the deliberate effect of parasitic and attention seeking musicians who are desperate to earn fame and name overnight. They don’t have the courage to earn hard-earned fame on their own terms and hence shamelessly steal what others have done with years of hard work and dedication. Such fame seekers are even thick-skinned to tag their names with the names of veteran musicians in the contemptible effort to up-fame themselves as equal or par equal to them. Here they simply stoop down to the level of parasites
Remixes of yesteryear classics have become trendy these days with the hands-on participation of many of some of the new-generation musicians & a breed of young pop singers out there, who do nothing other than badly deforming time-tested compositions which have stolen the hearts of millions of music lovers from all-over the world. Appalling mixing of classics with noisy instrumental pieces and terribly tuned and dizzying disco beats should be considered unpardonable, and should be treated as deliberate deception through cheap plagiarism.
Yesterday I was listening to some songs in random, and found that one among sounded too quirky and odd, but had very familiar lyrics. I was totally clueless at first, and took a few minutes to understand that what I heard was a disgracefully remixed version of one of my favourite songs, the awful attempt of one among the fame-hungry, self proclaimed musicians out there.
There’s nothing more frustrating than listening to the vexatious and echo laden remixed versions of soothing and melodious songs that I’ve always cherished. Remixing is a sickening crime as it gives horrendous makeover to the magnificence of many of those beautifully composed songs, by adding sleazy lyrics and thunderous tunes that are created with the deliberate intention to spoil the entire charm of original compositions.
There’s been an unstoppable flood of remixed songs, right from the day of invention of this nonsensical music composition method, which I would call the cruellest leeching of other people’s capabilities, by disfiguring eminently likable songs with cheesy lyrics and ear-splitting music. But duplicates, however perfectly created, will never turnout irreplaceably beautiful as the original ones, and at times may badly insult the original creations, like some of the attention-whoring song remixes that we hear these days.
Of all the remixes that have been released so far, nothing was successful enough to surpass the original, which makes me wonder why remixes are being made, when we all know that they are nothing but an expensive second- hand trashy pieces, when the originals in their entire perfection are cheaper and easily available. Remixing or the awful butchery of classic songs is nothing but the deliberate effect of parasitic and attention seeking musicians who are desperate to earn fame and name overnight. They don’t have the courage to earn hard-earned fame on their own terms and hence shamelessly steal what others have done with years of hard work and dedication. Such fame seekers are even thick-skinned to tag their names with the names of veteran musicians in the contemptible effort to up-fame themselves as equal or par equal to them. Here they simply stoop down to the level of parasites
Remixes of yesteryear classics have become trendy these days with the hands-on participation of many of some of the new-generation musicians & a breed of young pop singers out there, who do nothing other than badly deforming time-tested compositions which have stolen the hearts of millions of music lovers from all-over the world. Appalling mixing of classics with noisy instrumental pieces and terribly tuned and dizzying disco beats should be considered unpardonable, and should be treated as deliberate deception through cheap plagiarism.
What was that?
A woman, a man, an animal or an alien of some sort? I looked at the picture more than a couple of times from all the possible angles, and yet failed to understand what exactly the painting in front of me depicted. Embellishing the wall of one of the famous restaurants of the city, the painting was far from meaningful and looked like the presumptuousness of a parochial artist who desperately tried to show-off his ‘scholarliness’.
Seeing me staring at the painting, dad came near to know the reason, and as a reply to his confused looks I asked him to help me understand what the painting was about. Dad was tired and hungry after a long trip, and gave me a sad look on hearing that he had to interpret the pretentiousness of a pseudo intellectual artist. Seeing him sulk, I had to change my mind. So we both looked at the ‘mysterious’ painting once again and went inside the restaurant were my favorite dishes were eagerly waiting on the neatly arranged table. Even when I came out, I looked back at the painting in another vain effort to know the ‘noble’ intention of the artist. Failing miserably, I sadly left the place, but had the strange painting at the back of my mind and desperately wanted to know what exactly the painting was about. It looked as if someone had carelessly scattered a few geometrical shapes all over the paper, and named it ‘modern art’.
I am not an art critic, but an averagely intelligent art lover, the reason why I keep racking my brain for hours together and yet fail to decipher the meaning of the ‘multifarious’ modern paintings that I see. An art form that's far from the understanding of an average man is what I think would be the best definition of modern paintings, as none of them clearly portray what someone can easily decode at the very first look. I always feel that this is deliberately done by the artists, as a part of their longing to make the artworks unique and catchy. Or, are they just futile efforts to climb up high to get seated besides the old-times masters like Michelangelo and Da Vinci?
Random strokes and random colours splattered here and there, surrounded by un-identical shapes and figures in distorted styles, most of the present day paintings look strange and bizarre, desperately trying to hide inside the hard-shell of modernity. They are often extremely obscure, and for this reason badly fail to come-out and reveal the gist of the message to be conveyed to the viewer. Yet I have seen many self proclaimed art lovers who snobbishly adorn their houses with these so called modern arts, only to make sure that the guests go gaga about their love for art and paintings, and never ask them the possible meaning of the art works that decorate their walls.
Far from being crafty or artistic, most of the modern paintings that I have seen are unrecognizable and look like the exaggerated whims of a group of big-headed and self-proclaimed artists, struggling to get a bit of space for themselves in the history of art.
Seeing me staring at the painting, dad came near to know the reason, and as a reply to his confused looks I asked him to help me understand what the painting was about. Dad was tired and hungry after a long trip, and gave me a sad look on hearing that he had to interpret the pretentiousness of a pseudo intellectual artist. Seeing him sulk, I had to change my mind. So we both looked at the ‘mysterious’ painting once again and went inside the restaurant were my favorite dishes were eagerly waiting on the neatly arranged table. Even when I came out, I looked back at the painting in another vain effort to know the ‘noble’ intention of the artist. Failing miserably, I sadly left the place, but had the strange painting at the back of my mind and desperately wanted to know what exactly the painting was about. It looked as if someone had carelessly scattered a few geometrical shapes all over the paper, and named it ‘modern art’.
I am not an art critic, but an averagely intelligent art lover, the reason why I keep racking my brain for hours together and yet fail to decipher the meaning of the ‘multifarious’ modern paintings that I see. An art form that's far from the understanding of an average man is what I think would be the best definition of modern paintings, as none of them clearly portray what someone can easily decode at the very first look. I always feel that this is deliberately done by the artists, as a part of their longing to make the artworks unique and catchy. Or, are they just futile efforts to climb up high to get seated besides the old-times masters like Michelangelo and Da Vinci?
Random strokes and random colours splattered here and there, surrounded by un-identical shapes and figures in distorted styles, most of the present day paintings look strange and bizarre, desperately trying to hide inside the hard-shell of modernity. They are often extremely obscure, and for this reason badly fail to come-out and reveal the gist of the message to be conveyed to the viewer. Yet I have seen many self proclaimed art lovers who snobbishly adorn their houses with these so called modern arts, only to make sure that the guests go gaga about their love for art and paintings, and never ask them the possible meaning of the art works that decorate their walls.
Far from being crafty or artistic, most of the modern paintings that I have seen are unrecognizable and look like the exaggerated whims of a group of big-headed and self-proclaimed artists, struggling to get a bit of space for themselves in the history of art.
Needle phobia
Last say I saw a very odd photograph were a well known American socialite was seen with a handful of needles pricked on to her face, as a part of her ‘routine’ beauty treatments. Although she was quoted saying that it was utmost relaxing, and rejuvenated her skin, I was taken aback seeing the amount of needles on her so called ‘relaxed’ face. Pricking all over the face with sharp needles may be relaxing for her and many others out there, but for me it’s would be the most dreadful thing to happen as I do have a phobia for needles, and can't even stand sight of injection needles and syringes. Needles give me tremendous panic attacks out of the blue, and for this reason I always keep being doubly cautious not to get sick and become a prey to those sharply pointed needles in various lengths.
“Do I have to get a needle shot?”, dad’s very familiar with this dreading question of mine, and he will always make sure to say a pacifying NO in advance, before getting in to the doctors' clinics every time, fearing the possible 'war-zone' that would arise if I see injection needles . There had been many dramatic instances of panic attacks throughout my life, when I shamelessly screamed and howled my ass off, thus creating many embarrassing moments for my dad who used to patiently hold my hand tightly until the whole ‘injection’ process gets over. Until the latter half of my adult hood I had many such terrible struggles with my needle phobia, and at times used to get terribly hysterical on seeing injection needles that dad and mom used to find it really hard to physically restrain me throughout the ‘injection’ process. By now you all might have got a fair share of idea about my fear for injection needles.
My phobia is neither a fully blown one and nor a mild dread, but an average case of heebie jeebie which gets worse only at the sight of needles. As a part of his efforts to help me get rid of my fear, my dad even tried showing me a lot of pictures and videos , but he has never been completely successful yet, as I still can’t watch the sight of injection needles finding their smooth way into my flesh.
Recently our family doctor asked me to do a thyroid test where my blood sample had to be taken. I was about to yell out a flat refusal, when my dad jumped in and said Yes much to my shock and disbelief. I knew I would faint on seeing the sharp edged needle but had no other choices left. Sadly I agreed to get it done and went in to the lab holding my dad’s hands, only to hide my nerve jangling reactions, as I never wanted my dad to get more embarrassed due to my silliness. More than the pain, it was the thought and sight of the sharp pointed needle that send chills down my spine, and for this reason I closed my eyes tightly and again held my dad’s hands when I knew that the nurse was coming near to take my blood sample. The whole process lasted less than five minutes and I never opened my eyes due to the immense fear of watching the needle draining out my blood like the (in)famous Count Dracula.
I keep wondering how the celebs agree for Botox treatments and get needles pricked on to their skin, as I don’t think I can ever do that in my life even if I am promised a young(ish) and supple skin.
“Do I have to get a needle shot?”, dad’s very familiar with this dreading question of mine, and he will always make sure to say a pacifying NO in advance, before getting in to the doctors' clinics every time, fearing the possible 'war-zone' that would arise if I see injection needles . There had been many dramatic instances of panic attacks throughout my life, when I shamelessly screamed and howled my ass off, thus creating many embarrassing moments for my dad who used to patiently hold my hand tightly until the whole ‘injection’ process gets over. Until the latter half of my adult hood I had many such terrible struggles with my needle phobia, and at times used to get terribly hysterical on seeing injection needles that dad and mom used to find it really hard to physically restrain me throughout the ‘injection’ process. By now you all might have got a fair share of idea about my fear for injection needles.
My phobia is neither a fully blown one and nor a mild dread, but an average case of heebie jeebie which gets worse only at the sight of needles. As a part of his efforts to help me get rid of my fear, my dad even tried showing me a lot of pictures and videos , but he has never been completely successful yet, as I still can’t watch the sight of injection needles finding their smooth way into my flesh.
Recently our family doctor asked me to do a thyroid test where my blood sample had to be taken. I was about to yell out a flat refusal, when my dad jumped in and said Yes much to my shock and disbelief. I knew I would faint on seeing the sharp edged needle but had no other choices left. Sadly I agreed to get it done and went in to the lab holding my dad’s hands, only to hide my nerve jangling reactions, as I never wanted my dad to get more embarrassed due to my silliness. More than the pain, it was the thought and sight of the sharp pointed needle that send chills down my spine, and for this reason I closed my eyes tightly and again held my dad’s hands when I knew that the nurse was coming near to take my blood sample. The whole process lasted less than five minutes and I never opened my eyes due to the immense fear of watching the needle draining out my blood like the (in)famous Count Dracula.
I keep wondering how the celebs agree for Botox treatments and get needles pricked on to their skin, as I don’t think I can ever do that in my life even if I am promised a young(ish) and supple skin.
Why I hate April 1st
I hate April 1st, the very ‘popular’ Fools’ day, and am not a huge fan of the asinine, tricky and irksome April Fool pranks, unfunny and uncouth most of the times. Of all the sort of holidays that I have all the year round, this is the wackiest and intolerable one, especially when Fools’ day pranks take harsh and cruel turns and end up in gruesome disasters instead of laughter. For me, a new day always means tons of enjoyment, be it big or small, and for this reason hardly have any interest in digging out the best of the pranks, only to go around and fool everyone that I see in front. But I do know a lot of eager pranksters who restlessly wait for this day, to play eerie pranks or cook-up crazy hoaxes, thinking that their ‘efforts’ would make people laugh their heads off. They are totally wrong because I don’t think I will be able to laugh if I see someone’s with a shocked face wondering at his/her naivety, while the other, or a prankster, laughing meanly and crazily at the success of his/her prank.
I enjoy humor like everyone, but not at the cost of someone's innocence. A joke or a prank is never funny unless it’s equally enjoyed by all. But nowadays there’s nothing called a loving or likable April Fools' Day joke/prank, and all that I’ve been finding throughout these years are those rude and nasty ones which are meant to make someone look stupid for believing what they heard/saw. This is nothing but conceit, and not joke. So I often spend this day far away from the known and unknown pranksters around, not because I am ‘allergic’ to jokes, but due to fear of the amount of craziness and hurtful intentions behind them, sometimes amounting to annoying me for no reason of mine. It's shocking but true that many people often don’t make out the fine line between pranks and bullying, instead go around pestering others in the false notion that they are trying to spread humor around. The pranksters may enjoyed the so called ‘intelligently’ created joke, whereas the victims, in most cases, would look dumbstruck and pale in front of others, cursing their credulity. Is being naive bad? Technically it’s never, but while considering today’s world, nativity may result in unforeseen incidents that often may not have happier endings. So credulity should be limited to reasonable level, and should be balanced with a bit of suspicion, making sure that one is never vulnerable to some of those intense pranks.
Do we need a day for mean and pointless jokes, a day to go-on fooling around? I know very well that some of you may call me pretentious and snobbish, but I don’t care. People have already crowded me with those names more times that I can ever count. For most of the people around, this day is only meant for the unending exploitation of some of the most gullible ones out there, and for this reason I hate this day, and have never tried to play pranks on anyone around.
There was a time when I used to enjoy the cheery jokes and pranks of my school mates, but bygone are those days, and now what I fear most on April first is the umpteen number of unfunny & gross pranks that people dig-up for the day, without even thinking about their aftermaths.
I enjoy humor like everyone, but not at the cost of someone's innocence. A joke or a prank is never funny unless it’s equally enjoyed by all. But nowadays there’s nothing called a loving or likable April Fools' Day joke/prank, and all that I’ve been finding throughout these years are those rude and nasty ones which are meant to make someone look stupid for believing what they heard/saw. This is nothing but conceit, and not joke. So I often spend this day far away from the known and unknown pranksters around, not because I am ‘allergic’ to jokes, but due to fear of the amount of craziness and hurtful intentions behind them, sometimes amounting to annoying me for no reason of mine. It's shocking but true that many people often don’t make out the fine line between pranks and bullying, instead go around pestering others in the false notion that they are trying to spread humor around. The pranksters may enjoyed the so called ‘intelligently’ created joke, whereas the victims, in most cases, would look dumbstruck and pale in front of others, cursing their credulity. Is being naive bad? Technically it’s never, but while considering today’s world, nativity may result in unforeseen incidents that often may not have happier endings. So credulity should be limited to reasonable level, and should be balanced with a bit of suspicion, making sure that one is never vulnerable to some of those intense pranks.
Do we need a day for mean and pointless jokes, a day to go-on fooling around? I know very well that some of you may call me pretentious and snobbish, but I don’t care. People have already crowded me with those names more times that I can ever count. For most of the people around, this day is only meant for the unending exploitation of some of the most gullible ones out there, and for this reason I hate this day, and have never tried to play pranks on anyone around.
There was a time when I used to enjoy the cheery jokes and pranks of my school mates, but bygone are those days, and now what I fear most on April first is the umpteen number of unfunny & gross pranks that people dig-up for the day, without even thinking about their aftermaths.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)